The Affair At Sheffield Manor
by minnie313
Summary: England, 1887. When a body is discovered on the grounds of the house, Mr Brightmore, valet to Lord Maxwell Sheffield, finds himself involved in a murder inquiry. To his surprise, he is helped in his quest by insufferable yet beautiful American heiress C. C. Babcock…
1. Prologue

A/N : A new, longer historical piece. Be ready for some intellectual stimulation, action, and romance :) (I have a general idea, but no promises as to when I'll get it finished)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Nanny_ or anything related to it, it is the property of its owners and creators: Fran Drescher, Peter Marc Jacobson, CBS, Highschool Sweethearts, etc.

 **Rating:** T+

 **Summary:** England, 1887. When a body is discovered on the grounds of the house, Mr Brightmore, valet to Lord Maxwell Sheffield, finds himself involved in a murder inquiry. To his surprise, he is helped in his quest by insufferable yet beautiful American heiress C. C. Babcock…

 _ **The Brightmore Agency**_

 _ **Book 1: The Affair At Sheffield Manor  
**_

" _ **A most unremarkable death"**_

In Little Ascott, Surrey, it was a fact generally admitted that Edmund Uriah Milton Porterhouse was a most remarkable man. From his neatly trimmed beard to the cloth of his well-tailored lounge suits, from his well-known fulgurant rise to riches and the multiplication of his factories, from his manner to his temper, from his occasional generosity to his usual parsimony, … there was no denying to the inhabitants of Little Ascott that Mr Porterhouse was an exceptional man.

It was thus with much disappointment, and _some_ annoyance that they had found themselves reading his most banal obituary in the local journal:

 **OBITUARY**

We deeply regret to announce the death of the following:

Mr E. U. M. Porterhouse (1824-1887) died during a stay in Yorkshire on 7th Sept. 1887. Mr Porterhouse, director of the infamous Porterhouse company, who has died at the age of 53, was only 29 when he bought his first factory from Mr Mason of _Mason & Sons_. Quickly, Mr Porter had remodelled the entire factory to proper efficiency and quality, then gradually took over half of the pie industry in Britain. In October 1885, he build his last factory to date, equipped with all the machinery of modern pie-making. He established himself in Little Ascott, Surrey, in 1876. Mr Porterhouse shall long remain in memory for his contribution to industrial chicken pot-pie, and to various charities including the _Lakeside Orphanage_ and the _Saint Mary's School for Destitute Young Ladies_. He leaves a nephew, Henry.

The obituary said nothing more, but everyone knew it from a former front-page article in the old gazette: the death appeared to be accidental. During a walk in a particularly secluded side of the moor, Mr Porterhouse had lost his footing and fallen to his death on the big rock formation the locals called "The Witch's Tomb", which was said to be damned.

The nephew was sure to inherit the business and all the money, the pub regulars told whoever listened. Some even started rumours that Mr Pot-Pie's death was more suspicious than the police thought.

His death was a shock to everyone, and the emotions alimented the already well-fed rumour-mill so much so that, by the time this reached the polices' ears, everyone had their own view of Mr Porterhouse and his death:

" _And wasn't he here just a fortnight ago? I think the priest saw him then."_

" _And that nephew, where is he? Are the police sure that he did not do the dead?"_

" _And wasn't he also at Graves', the blacksmith? I reckon he could also tell us a thing or two about ol' Porterhouse's cheapness"_

" _Maybe someone wasn't happy to get a low pay, huh?"_

And the old biddies, the village's gossip central, to recall how much of a "bon vivant" he was : liked his drink, he did, and was something of a ladies' man with wandering hands, sometimes…

But always a man who would give to charity – what a contradiction – and not shy to employ any man who might need work. Even patronized an orphanage, and a school for gifted destitute girls, it seems…

" _A remarkable man"_

His death, as we said, irked: a man who lost his footing and crushed his skull on some rocks… how commonplace!


	2. Chapter 1 : A busy hive

A/N : I managed to cut my thumb while cooking on Wednesday, and had to get it stitched up… Yowza! I've got a new admiration for Niles' ability to cook while being distracted by every teensy weensy thing happening at the Mansion. Anyway, I had wanted to write this chapter on Wednesday, but I could not focus.

Here it is, fresh from my notebook :)

 _ **Chapter 1: A busy hive**_

"There is nothing I hate more in this job than this huzzing1 and buzzing of busy bees at such an ungodly hour" thought Niles Brightmore, while he was combing the brilliantine in his dark blond hair. Not that the job itself came without its rewards, of course.

Being valet to one of England's most prominent theatre producers had to have its advantages. He lived in a big house. He had a steady income. He had food on the table, clean clothes, and a warm bed. He could follow Lord Maxwell on his journeys to London, even out of the Season, which enabled him to visit his parents and have some free time in the capital. He had access to a large library, with books stimulating enough for his brain – his job might have been rewarding, but intellectually stimulating?

Being finished with his hair, shook himself out of his reverie. His work was not going to do itself and, on days like these, Mr Carter and the boys would need all the help that they could get.

The staff had all been busy for the las few days. Lady Sara – Lord Maxwell's wife – had organised a large party in honour of the first birthday of their youngest daughter, Lady Grace. Of course, the entire extended Sheffield family was invited, as well as their friends. Quite a lot of people to accommodate. And although they would all bring their own maid or gentleman in waiting, all the staff at Sheffield Manor had double the work for the day. Scullery maid to cook, hall boy to butler, maid to housekeeper.

Niles, as it were, had always loved a bit of action in the house so it was not that he disliked it, he reflected as he made his way to Lord Sheffield's dressing room, but the whole affair was rather tiring for everyone. Thank God, it was late summer! At least, the weather was nice enough that most of the guests could be expected to find their own amusement outside! If Lady Grace had been born in December… He shuddered at the thought.

When he had finished lighting his master's fire, polishing his boots, and reorganised his dressing rooms, he morosely walked down the servant's stairs to go get his breakfast. Lord Maxwell had taken his bath yesterday. At least that saved him the trouble. Unless he took one of his Godforsaken morning walks, and had both to change and get a bath before he met the first guests to arrive. He checked his watch, given to him by Max- Lord Maxwell when he had made him his valet. He could still recall Mr Carter, the butler, whose eyebrows had shot up at one of Lord Sheffield's less than enthusiastic comments. Apparently, he had expected Niles to follow in his father's footsteps and become a butler, like his father, Mr Brightmore Senior, who managed the London house…

Hen reflective and morose mood followed him well into his breakfast, where even Mrs Jones's cooking could not break. The two heads of staff were seated at their customary places: on each end of the table. They never spoke at mealtime, but they never stopped communicating with their eyes. And yet, they were not even aware of the depth of their connection. It made Niles envious. Not the unrequited/unaware part, of course, but the connection part. There was no one here that he could really connect to. All he had were the flirty smiles of the more "outgoing" maids, and the girlish giggles of shy, blushing scullery maids who thought his blue eyes were "two lakes you could drown yourself into" or "as clear as a summer sky". He had read better trite in his mother's mawkish French _romans de gare_!

The atmosphere today, was bubbly, and he could not care less. All he saw was the added workload. It was strange for him who had always been happy to meet new people. Maybe he needed a rest.

When his bell rang, Niles was almost relieved to leave the table. His breakfast had left his stomach feeling like lead; he had prayed for a quick getaway.

"Goodmorning, M'lord, M'lady." He said as he entered their bedroom.

"Ah, hello, Niles"

"Goodmorning, Mr Brightmore" said Lady Sara, who could never bring herself to call him by his first name.

"And how are you on this fine morning, my dear fellow? Are the preparations for our little affaire running smoothly?"

Little affaire?! The nerve of that man! There might be only close friends and the family, but the guests were piling high!

"Very well, M'lord, very well" he replied with all the affability he could muster "Mr Carter and Mrs Logan do have things well in hand"

"You see, darling, everything will be perfect! Didn't I tell you not to worry?"

"One cannot help but worry, dear" replied Lady Sara "even with such captains as Mr Carter and Mrs Logan at the helm."

"You worry too much, darling" the Lord replied, chuckling.

"I just want everything to be perfect for our Gracie, that's all" she said sheepish. "By the way, with all our guests arriving around noon, you'll need your strength. You should get dressed and take your breakfast, darling"

"Speaking of which, will we finally be seeing that friend of yours from the States?"

"Yes, dear, Ceec has finally managed to get away from New York" she answered amused.

"Well, it's about damn time! For someone who claims to be such a good friend of yours in her letters, she has not been overly present in our lives. In fact, she has not been present at all. Not even for our wedding!"

"I told you already, Max, her grandmother Egeria Lennox had passed just before. Her place was with her family. She did send us that lovely wedding present, did she not? And she is very busy with her work. You should know, the two of you work in the same business!"

So the elusive Miss Babcock _was_ coming this time. Niles tucked this piece of information for later use as he followed Lord Maxwell, who was muttering under his breath about the impropriety of well-bred women working in the theatre, in his dressing room.

"I laid out the blue one for you today, M'lord"

"Oh, well,…"

"Would you have preferred another one, M'lord?"

"Well, I had thought about taking a walk this breakfast, before the guests arrive. I thought my green tweed would be better."

So the bath and the change of clothes! My my… such a busy bee he would be today!

"Oh, but why change, M'lord? You could just as easily take your walk in the blue one, and…"

"You just do not wish to draw my bath or help me change later, do you, old chap? You forget, I know all your tricks!" Replied the lord with a chuckle.

"As you wish, M'lord, although I must warn you that the green one makes you look, well, rather tubby…"

Maxwell only shook his head, smiling, and Niles almost rolled his eyes. He hoped that they would soon be finished. There was much to do still before the guests arrive. And he would be expected to wait at table.

1 I know that word does not exist :)


	3. Chapter 2 : A whirlwind from New York

_**Chapter 2: A whirlwind from New York**_

There is no describing the disappointment that overtook Niles that afternoon: the guests would not be arriving all at the same time, and, most importantly, would not be greeted by the entire household.

Everyone in the house, had he admitted to this, would have looked at him strangely. It was not that Niles had the reputation of being a lazy man, but he liked his days rather slow paced, so he could hear juicy gossip. Having that amount of people arriving at the same time – frankly, them arriving on the same day was harrowing enough a prospect – generated so much more work than usual, that it disturbed his day enough. That they arrived at different times, would not usually be a problem for Niles. But the greeting of the household permitted him to get useful bits of information, a look here, a sound there, that would make gossip go for a while. And Niles was the "King of Gossip". He was indeed a master in valeting for his attention to detail, which had helped him rise through the ranks here, at Sheffield Manor, and it was such attention to details that helped him understand so much about what was going on where in the household.

In this case, Niles was very disappointed in not being able to meet the "elusive" Miss C. C. Babcock, as Lord Maxwell had called her, so eager was he to discover her weary from her journey, and free of most of the usual glamour.

This woman was nothing short of intriguing. A born socialite, she had gotten her first theatre at the tender age of 21, then gaining control of her own money, and building a small empire. It was unusual enough to heard of a woman captaining her own life at any age, but Miss C. C. Babcock had done it all even before her majority. Some say, she had tricked her own father, the steel tycoon Stuart Babcock, after which the business man had been so impressed with her financial and cunning skills that he allowed her to control her own money and goods. That, was entirely unheard of.

Now, Miss Babcock owned about five theatres in the USA and Canada, as well as a few small ones in Paris, Rome, and Edinburgh, as well as other buildings.

Not only was she a business shark, she was also very discerning theatre owner. All the plays staged in her properties were well liked by the public, and her fortune kept only on growing.

Men like Lord Maxwell, who needed a mild and caring wife, both admired and disapproved of her blatant rejection of the tasks and goals usually attributed to her sex.

Niles Brightmore, however, was already utterly fascinated – the usual women bored him, he loved the intellectual ones. Each time Lady Sara had invited the businesswoman, he had anxiously waited for her visit, only to have his expectations shattered every time business kept her from her friend.

Now that she was indeed coming – she had RSVPed by telegram from her boat – Niles had felt himself grow more nervous and eager.

All the way till dinner, he had had to focus especially hard on his various tasks. They did manage to calm him down slightly, but he was still jittery when he came down to the drawing room with Mr Carter, John, and Michael, to serve the pre-dinner drinks.

As soon as she entered the room, he gulped audibly. It would be mild to say that this woman was a vision. His breath taken away, he barely noticed the dress – designed for New York society, no doubt. It was her face that drew him in. Guarded up even as she entered the room, frozen in the cool socialite façade. Melting in a delighted smile as soon as she recognized Lady Sara.

The two women greeted each other warmly, under the somewhat disapproving gaze of Lady Sheffield.

All throughout dinner, Niles would keep his warm and admiring gaze on her. If she noticed – and as well-trained as he was, she probably did not – she did not say, and, to his embarrassment, he kept noticing things about her. The way her eyes crinkled and twinkled when she genuinely smiled. That predatory smile, when she had finally backed her opponent in a corner. The way her hair shone under the soft candlelight. How she delicately bit into each morsel. How she moved her hands around her plate, and when she talked, …

Later that night, when he was finally done with his duties, and had gone up to his quarters in the male servants' corridor, he could not keep the ecstatic look upon his face, once the door had been locked, and he allowed himself to wax lyrical in hushed tones, recalling the evening. He let himself be caught up in it, refusing to consider this crush realistically, wanting to keep his good mood for as long as possible. For once, he did not dream of his mediocre life.

A/N: Sooo, what do you think about it so far? I know I'm setting a slow pace for the beginning, but things should catch up soon :)

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